May we unite under the face of one star-tooth sky

for doomed posterity must rewind the script

And we are such doomed birds, I, like you—Kev

was born in the Oxy jaws, was born in the Big Gulp

and raised by the stalk of glucose fields

Behold, the dead friend glossary, Behold the

nebula crash site, drunk drivers in the ER church

I am with you, flock of crash dummies, I am with you

depressed monk, who does not pray, in Fairfax

I am with you, surviving on nacho cheese, chewing

on gas stations, we have all been chained to the cave

in one way or another, whether gunshot or Depakote

snowstorms or 9 to 5, such hands shake like cigarettes

like wind chimes, trust me, I too have suffered your 

overdose, I too have cried and worked and spread-sheeted

the future into flat circles, boring, pneumonia, whatever

ailment seeks throats, like razed hearts crackling from the

molotov kiss, bomb me, seppuku, riot mouth, my splayed

guts diagram the McDonalds, and Coke, and outliving

4 friends in a haze of benzo shockwave, this American

flag, how it weeps of disability, how it stands for

grind, landlord and defcon 5, bury me then, with

the ones who said no, I respect suicide like most

can’t imagine, because I know that living with

disease is a gasoline question mark: Why you

chose the needle, why I sold the half, ate glass

and cut off my head as a gift to the ever-present

The answers are obvious: rotting brains and

white marble: the firebird drives us into

the ground and up again—so may we unite

there—somehow—everything different

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